A Road Less Traveled
by sweetdevil16
Summary: AU. Starts with the summer before Harry's 6th year. Wanting to forget all the events at the Ministry, Harry starts down the deadly path of a drug user. Can he be saved, and still save the wizarding world? Please read & review!
1. Down The Rabbit Hole

Author's note: Ok so this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction (so be nice please). I've wanted to write one for quite some time, and I had a lot of ideas floating around in my head, but all of them seemed so cliché. Finally I got the idea for this story, and I love it. Maybe no one else will want to read about a drugged-out Harry, but honestly what would you do in his situation? I'm surprised he hasn't looked for some sort of coping mechanism by now. This is a 6th year story, not because I didn't like HBP, but because this story fits better after year 5. This story will hopefully be really long, and hopefully good. I hope you all enjoy ; )

Disclaimer: This is all JK Rowling's. I'm just having fun with her characters for a while.

**A Road Less Traveled**

**Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

**

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was going to get out again.

-Lewis Caroll, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

* * *

_

"Come on Dud, you sure you don't want to have a go?"

Harry Potter was walking down the sidewalk of Privet Drive when he heard the voice coming from behind a tree at the end of the lane. Soon a second voice, which he recognized as his cousin Dudley's, answered.

"Nah, I can't be doing any shit like that. Dad would kill me. Besides, it would just fuck up my boxing."

Harry kept walking towards them, not out of interest, but out of sheer lack of will. Ever since returning to the Dursley's, Harry didn't have much energy for anything. Today was one of his better days; he was able to actually get dressed and go outdoors. Sirius' death was still raw, and almost every night he woke screaming from his nightmares. They varied in plot- Sirius' death, Cedric's death, his parents' deaths- but the theme was constant. Death, they were always about death, and it was always his fault. The Dursleys of course, must have heard his screams, but they wisely chose to ignore him. In fact, they hadn't so much as uttered a single word to him all summer. Moody's threat was probably still fresh in Uncle Vernon's head. Harry almost wished they would yell at him again, tell him to shut up, or clean the kitchen, or something, anything to keep his mind off of his guilt. But Harry had no such relief and was left with only his mind for company, something no one should have to endure.

Harry surfaced from his thoughts as he saw Dudley emerge from behind a large oak and head back towards his house and straight past Harry. Dudley gave him a quick glance before scuttling away as fast as his pudgy legs could carry him. Harry just shoved his hands in pockets and continued walking with his head down and staring at his trainers; that is until the voice from earlier called out his name.

Harry looked up and spotted Piers Polkiss leaning against the oak. He had changed quite a bit since Harry had last seen him. He still had a rat-like quality about him, but he had grown much taller and now wore his mousy-brown hair long, cut at his shoulders. As Harry approached him, he noticed Piers was wearing a brown leather jacket, and if he was not mistaken, black eyeliner.

"What do you want Piers?" asked Harry, not really caring about the answer. He had stopped being afraid of Dudley and his sidekicks five years ago.

"Listen, I know we haven't been the best of friends," Piers started.

Harry snorted.

"Yeah, ok so I've been a right arse, but it's time to make amends. I think I have something that would be useful to you. Dud's told me about your nightmares-"

At that, Harry felt all the blood drain from his face. "What the hell has he told you?"

Piers held his hands out in a peaceful gesture. "Don't get so upset about it. Nothing much was said, he was just complaining about how little sleep he gets now, what with you screaming out names in the dead of night."

"Yeah sure, that's not much. Why are telling me this?" Harry's hands balled themselves into fists unconsciously within his pockets.

"Because I think I can help." Piers took something out of his coat pocket and held it up to Harry. It appeared to be a white powder of some sort held in a small baggie.

"Ever heard of smack Harry?" At Harry's blank stare, Piers elaborated, "Heroin."

Harry's fists unclenched, and his mouth formed a small 'o'. "But I don't use-"

"Yeah, well there's a first time for everything. It the greatest stuff in the world. Leaves you with a high you won't ever want to come down from. And the best part is it makes you forget all the shit in your life. No more nightmares, no more screaming; it's an amazing drug."

Harry was definitely intrigued. This must have been what Piers and Dudley were talking about earlier. Before he knew what was happening, Harry's right hand was lifting up and reaching towards the little bag. Piers gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, then hastily closed the distance and let the baggie fall into Harry's palm. Harry stared at the drug for a second, wondering how something so small could make him forget his problems which were so big. He was destined to either kill or be killed by Voldemort. What on earth could possibly make him forget that?  
"Look Piers, I appreciate the offer, but I don't think this will do much for me." Harry held up the baggie for Piers to take back, but Piers refused.

"Think of this as a trial offer, a peace pipe from me to you."

Harry just shrugged and slipped the baggie into his pocket, then turned to leave. It was getting dark.

"Harry wait. You don't know much about heroin do you?" Piers quickly asked. "How do you expect to get that stuff into you body, unless you're more of an expert than I thought, and you just happen to have your own needle lying around the house?"

Once again, Harry shrugged. He hadn't really thought about it.

"Alright I suppose I'll have to give you some supplies to start with." Piers began rummaging through his pockets and pulled out a couple of syringes. "Nicked these from my mum a few days ago. It finally pays to have a nurse for a mum. Now, if you decide to use it you'll need to get a spoon and put some of the smack into it. Then heat the spoon until the powder turns liquid, and draw it into the syringe. Insert into vein and there you go." Piers was grinning widely, as Harry warily took the syringes and put them into his other pockets.

"Is that _all_?" Harry asked. It seemed a bit complicated.

"Oh, don't forget to use a tourniquet of some type on your arm. It makes it easier to find a vein." Piers answered completely oblivious to the sarcasm. Then he looked at his wristwatch and let out a curse, "Shit I better go. Listen Harry, if you want more, come find me. But this is a one time offer. Next time, it'll be about 6 pounds a bag, so enjoy." With a final grin, Piers turned and headed back towards his house. Harry was left there staring at his retreating back as he thought about all that had just happened. Some people certainly change.

* * *

A while later, Harry was sitting on his bed staring at himself in the mirror. The young man staring back was one he hardly recognized. Gone was the skinny little boy of old, and in his place was a teenager on the cusp of adulthood. His shoulders had broadened out, and he had grown a few inches, though he would never be as tall as Ron. And despite the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his horrible wire-rimmed glasses, he was a far cry from ugly. His hair was as messy as ever, and from under his bangs he could see the tip of his scar. But his looks didn't concern him at the moment, for right now he was currently waging a war within his own head.

He had nicked a spoon, a candle, and a few matches from dinner, and they currently sat upon his bedside table along with the syringes and baggie. His eyes kept stealing glances over towards the pile of equipment, but just as quickly he would turn away. The idea of getting rid of his nightmares greatly appealed to him. Not having to think about Voldemort, the prophesy, or any other responsibility of his, was extremely enticing, but he wasn't stupid. He knew enough about drugs to know that it wasn't something that was well thought of. Harry had heard enough on the news to know that there were serious issues that came with using heroin.

On the other hand, he could just try it once, and never do it again. It could be a one time thing, just like Piers said. And it wasn't like anyone would ever find out. The Dursleys never came into his room, and he wasn't going to write about it in any of his letters. '_Hey Ron, just thought you should know I used some H the other day. Nothing to worry about, Harry.' _He didn't think that would go over too well. And the Order had seemed to back off this summer. They were no longer keeping tabs on him all the time and seemed to be pacified with a letter from him every few days.

Just once, he would try it just once. Before he could talk himself out of it, he jerked his head away from the mirror and walked towards his closet. There he picked up a belt, and returned to his bed. It was a bit awkward trying to tighten the belt around his arm, but with some help from his teeth, he managed to get it securely in place. Already he could feel the constricted blood flow.

Harry then reached for a match and lit the candle. Setting the candle aside, he picked up the baggie and dumped the contents into the spoon. It wasn't long before he was able to liquefy the powder. Harry took out a syringe and drew it back until it was full with the heroin. He looked down at his arm, where his veins were standing out. With a deep exhale of breath, Harry plunged the needle into a vein at the crook of his arm. He pushed down on the syringe, emptying the contents into his bloodstream. Pulling out the needle, Harry almost immediately felt something come over him. He let the needle fall from his hand, and he laid back on his bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he felt a sense of euphoria come over him, a sense of well being. He smiled to himself.

Harry laid there for hours, drifting in and out of wakefulness, until finally the drug wore off, and he fell fully asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, light was streaming through his window. Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes, until he remembered last night's events. He looked down at his left arm and saw a little pinprick there, confirming that it had been real. But he couldn't help smiling. He hadn't had a nightmare last night.

"Wow," he said to himself, and wondered when he could get more.

* * *

Author's Note: Ok so that was chapter one. Yay! I know it was short, but the chapters will get longer I promise. Hope you enjoyed; please review. 


	2. Nirvana

Disclaimer: All the character's below belong to Miss Rowling, and I don't own the dictionary either

**Chapter 2: Nirvana

* * *

**

_nirvana_ (n.)- an ideal condition of complete bliss, delight, and peace

* * *

Harry was back by the old oak waiting for Piers while absently scratching his left forearm. The sun was just starting to set, making the landscape beautiful, but Harry wasn't concentrating on the beauty of the night sky. He really needed a fix, and he needed it badly.

Three weeks had past since that fateful first time, and since then he had quickly come to love using…a lot. Fortunately, Piers was able to supply Harry with everything he needed, but at a steep price. Despite his first freebie, Piers was a ruthless dealer and loved to charge Harry as much as he could.

Thank Merlin Harry had plenty of money left in his trunk that he had converted into English pounds. Of course when he had done that ages ago, he was thinking more along the lines of a death eater attack and having to fend for himself in Muggle London, but this was a much more pleasurable scenario.

Just when Harry's scratching was starting to get vicious, he finally spotted Piers coming towards him.

"What can I do for you today Harry?" Piers grinned. Harry noticed he seemed to do that a lot.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I need a hit." Harry had quickly caught on to the odd drug lingo Piers kept spouting out at him.

"Don't you think you've been using a lot lately? I wouldn't want you to get addicted or anything."

"I can stop whenever I want to Piers, but right now I want a hit." Harry had waited long enough. He had run out yesterday morning, and had been craving the heroin all night and day.

Piers held up his hands in defeat. "Well who am I to argue with a customer. You know the deal, six pounds, hand it over."

Harry already had the money in his hand. He looked around quickly before they made the exchange. He was becoming as paranoid as Piers. He slipped the baggie into his pocket, nodded his head, and headed back home. People could be watching, and there was no need to linger. Though he and Piers now had a definitely civil relationship, it wasn't anything near a friendship. It fell more along the lines of a client and a customer, and it bugged Harry that he seemed to be depending more and more on the rat-faced boy. What was worse, he sort of looked up to him.

Though Piers didn't use as much as Harry, he knew all about the drug and gave Harry plenty of tips. What made the best tourniquet, how much H to use to get the best high. All of it he learned from Piers. Harry almost burst out laughing at the thought. Instead what came out was some type of inelegant snort. Piers Polkiss use to be the kid who held his arms back while Dudley used Harry as a punching bag, and now he was dealing Harry heroin and making him feel the best he'd felt in a long time.

By the time Harry got back to the house the sun had set. He decided to skip dinner; he wasn't very hungry anyway. Once he reached his room and shut the door, he noticed that Pig was zooming around from one end to the next. Harry saw there was a letter lying on his bed. He quickly gave Pig some owl treats then sat down to read.

_Dear Harry, _

_Great news, mum's finally convinced Dumbledore to let you stay with us for the rest of the summer! I know Grimmauld Place isn't your favorite house, but we've finished most of the cleaning, and it's hardly recognizable now. Hermione's here too and she says to say hi. Some of the Order members will be picking you up around 7pm tomorrow, so be packed and ready to go. Can't wait to see you mate._

_-Ron_

Harry cursed under his breath. What was he going to do so far away from his only supplier of heroin? Lately, he seemed to be using at least once every day, if not more. This was not good. Harry looked at the letter again, but what he saw only made him more upset. He would be staying at Grimmauld Place. Harry never wanted to set foot in that house again. Dropping the letter, Harry began trembling as his hands desperately reached for his tourniquet. He went through his ritual methodically, having done it so many times before, and not until the drug was flowing through his veins did he finally stop shaking. He fell asleep, allowing himself for at least a little while to forget about what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

Harry called up Piers later the next morning and practically had a panic attack on the phone.

"They're taking me away! What the hell am I going to do, you have to help me!" Harry desperately pleaded.

Piers still seemed half asleep, "Harry calm down. Now what's all this business about being taking away? Are you going on holiday or something?"

"No, my friends are taking me to live with them for the rest of the summer, but what am I supposed to do? I _need_ to keep using."

"Well you could always quit, since you said yourself you're not addicted or anything." Harry could just tell Piers was grinning on the other line.

"But I don't want to do that. Can't you help me out? Please?" Harry hated begging, but he was willing to do anything to not have to give up his heroin.

"Don't get your knickers all in a twist. Of course I'll help you out. I'll come buy with a nice large supply around two, alright?"

Harry let out an exhale of relief, but then he thought of a new worry. "What about after I run out? I can't come to you then. I'll be too far away."

"Where are you staying? Maybe I know someone who lives around there who can help you out."

"London," said Harry even though it was useless. The Order would never let him out once he was inside Grimmauld Place.

"Oh well then Harry you're in luck. London is full of dealers I know personally. I'll give you the number of a few when we meet today."

Even though he knew it was pointless, Harry let Piers think he was helping. "Alright, oh and Piers, bring a big supply."

"Will do. Meet me by the oak at two." And then Piers hung up. Harry let out a sigh of defeat and slowly returned upstairs to pack his trunk.

* * *

The day could not have gone by any slower. Harry was sitting on his bed staring at his clock which read 6:59. After meeting with Piers for the last time, Harry hid his rather large stock of heroin at the bottom of his trunk. But then he got restless and decided on one more quick hit before the Order arrived. That calmed him down a bit, but now he was starting to wish he had done one more. His nerves were on end, and when his clock turned 7, quickly followed by a loud knock on his door, Harry jumped and fell off his bed. He got up, scratched his arm absentmindedly and opened the door. He was greeted by the familiar faces of Tonks, Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley, and Alastor Moody.

"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks whose hair today was lime green and cut in an attractive bob. "It's good to see you again."

"You too." And despite all his worries, Harry spoke the truth. It was nice seeing friendly wizarding faces again.

Remus Lupin stepped into the room. He looked as ragged as ever, and Harry realized Sirius' death must be eating at him too. "Hello Harry. You look well."

Harry laughed at that. He knew he looked anything but well. Strung out and high was more like it, but none of them knew that. "Hi Lupin." Harry nodded at the other two in turn, "Mr. Weasley, Moody. This is all of you?"

"Aye, but there should be ten more if you ask me," Moody grumbled.

"And that is exactly why no one did ask you Mad-eye." Tonks said winking, and then to Harry, "Alright, lets get out of here as soon as possible. Where's your trunk?"

Harry pointed to the corner where it was currently situated. Lying on top of it was Hedwig's empty cage; she had left hunting a few days ago and was presumably still out. Remus walked over to it, and flicked a featherlight charm in its direction. Picking it up and tucking Hedwig's cage under his arm, he headed for the door.

"What about the Dursley's? Did you see them on you way in?" Harry thought maybe he ought to say goodbye.

Arthur spoke up for the first time. "Harry we thought it best to avoid your relatives, seeing as how things went last time.." He trailed off obviously thinking of his twin sons and their ton-tongue toffees.

"Yes they're down in the living room, but we put up a silencing charm so they will never know we've been here. Dumbledore will inform them as to you whereabouts, and we can leave in peace." Lupin supplied as he walked towards the stairs.

Everyone followed, with Moody bringing up the rear, sniffing the portraits that lined the stair wall suspiciously. "Odd things, these are." He said, eyeballing a picture of Dudley at the beach with a look of contempt. "It's unnatural that they don't move."

"Yes aren't they fascinating?" Arthur eagerly joined Moody in looking at the photo. "See that thing around the boy's middle? It's called an _innards_ tube, and apparently allows one to float in water. Just extraordinary."

Moody harrumphed at Mr. Weasley's look of awe and continued down the stairs.

As Harry passed by the living room, he saw the Dursleys watching the tv set with their backs to him. After a moment of indecision, he continued past them and out the door. Saying goodbye would only result in making his uncle angry, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with that right now.

Once outside, Harry stopped and looked at his 'rescuers.'

"So, how are we getting out of here? Broomsticks again?" Harry was sure that would be the case and was waiting for the familiar feeling of a disallusionment charm, but it never came.

"Actually Harry, Dumbledore feels that the quickest way is apparition," Remus answered, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Tonks was grinning, Moody was scowling, and Harry was feeling apprehensive.

"But I'm not allowed to apparate, I don't even know how it's done."

Mr. Weasley spoke up, "Now there Harry, there's nothing to worry about. We'll be using side-along apparition. Just grab Remus by the arm," he motioned for Harry to do so. "And hold on tight."

Harry did as he was told then looked at Lupin. Before he knew what was happening, he heard a distinct pop and felt his world constrict. A few seconds later he was lying sprawled across the floor of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place; Lupin was lying next to him, propped up on his elbows.

"Sorry about that Harry. I was always rubbish at side-along. Could never get the landing right," Lupin smiled sheepishly.

"S'okay," Harry answered, straightening his glasses.

The rest of the party materialized then, and Tonks let out a cackle of laughter. With her green hair, Harry could see where stories of wicked witches had come from. She finally calmed down and held out her hand to help Harry up. Mr. Weasley did the same for Remus.

They heard a voice coming from just outside the door. "Arthur is that you dear?"

Mr. Weasley answered, "Yes Molly, we're all in the kitchen. Harry's with us."

Molly Weasley entered the kitchen with a wooden spoon in one hand and a knitting needle in the other. Harry saw that she was still as motherly and plump as ever, but she did look a bit stressed. Having so many sons involved in the war would do that to a person.

But when she spotted Harry, she put aside her things and held out her arms to envelop Harry in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh Harry dear, it's so good to see you. Oh you are looking as thin as ever, and a bit peaky. Are you getting enough sleep?"

At one time, Harry wouldn't have minded the motherly fretting, but at the moment he just wanted to be left alone. "Yes Mrs. Weasley," he answered in monotone.

Mrs. Weasley let go of him, and smiled down at her 'son.' "Well that's good to hear. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are upstairs in your old bedroom. You know the way."

Harry mumbled thanks then walked out of the kitchen, picking up his trunk and birdcage along the way. As he walked towards the landing he noticed that Ron was right; the place was a lot more habitable. There was more lighting and a lot less dust. And many of the unseemly dark antiques had vanished. But that didn't matter. For him, this house would always hold memories of his deceased godfather, and it immediately made him ache for a hit.

He entered the bedroom to see Ron and Hermione sitting on Ron's bed, while Ginny was lounging on his own. Harry couldn't help notice that she looked good. Her auburn hair fanned out from her head in gentle waves, and she had filled out quite a bit. Her hazel eyes immediately locked onto his as he stepped into the room, and she gave him a genuine smile.  
Ginny sat up, "Harry it's good to see you. Hope you don't mind me mussing up your bed. The floor just wasn't comfortable, and the two lovebirds over there," she jerked her thumb in the direction of Ron and Hermione, who were quickly turning red, "refused to budge. So how's your summer been?"

Harry returned her smile. Ginny was never afraid to say anything. He placed his trunk and cage down by his bed, and joined her in sitting. "It's been…fine. Not much has happened, you know."

Ron recovered from his blushing fit and spoke to Harry, "It's so good to see you mate. We've been worried about you since, well…since." Ron averted his eyes and stared at the floor. Hermione elbowed him in the stomach, and Ron gave her a stare that clearly said '_oops, sorry.'_

Harry saw the exchange between the two, and it quickly made him angry. So this was how it was going to be? Just like last year all over again, with them treading softly around _sensitive _Harry, and not speaking their minds because he was too _delicate_. Great, just great. He no longer wanted to see them, and desperately wished for some privacy.

Ginny quickly rescued the conversation with tales of battling banisters and dark loveseats, and all other sorts of cleaning horror stories. Harry should have found it entertaining, but as the time wore on, he was growing increasingly alarmed. It was clear he would be receiving no alone time in this house, but he could feel it was time for another hit. His muscles were beginning to ache and he was growing more restless with each passing minute. Finally he could take it no longer.

Interrupting Ginny in the middle of a lively tale between a coffee stain and Fred, who was determined to rid the couch of it, Harry spoke up, "I think I need to change. Sorry Ginny. It's just I've been in these clothes for too long, and I could do with a fresh shirt."

When Ginny just shrugged, but no one made to move, he elaborated, "I could use some privacy. Give me a few minutes will you?"

The three looked at each other, and for a second Harry was afraid they would refuse him, but then they all stood up and headed for the door. Hermione turned to Harry before she closed it. "You ok Harry? You seem a bit…on edge. If you need someone to talk to about anything, you know you can always come to me."

"Of course Hermione, I know. But really I'm fine. I just want a fresh change of clothes." He smiled at her in what he thought would be a convincing grin. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

She nodded then closed the door. Finally alone, Harry let out a deep sigh. Then he rushed to his trunk and opened it as fast as possible. Buried at the bottom were his supplies, and he took out everything he needed as quickly as he could. By then, his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't even light the match. Deciding that no one would notice a little underage magic in a house full of wizards, he spelled the spoon hot. It took only a few seconds for the heroin to liquefy, and then he put it into one of his syringes. Harry rolled up his left sleeve, and tightened his belt around his bicep, but he couldn't find a vein. He had been using the one at the crook of his arm so frequently that it must have collapsed. Letting out a groan of frustration, Harry switched the tourniquet to his other arm, where the veins were unused and healthy. He emptied the contents of the needle into his arm, and closed his eyes waiting for the feel of relief. Soon enough, all that had been gnawing at him melted away. It didn't matter that he was in Sirius' house and would most likely spend the rest of the summer trapped there. It didn't matter that his friends were still walking in circles around him, afraid to say something that would get him upset. And it didn't matter that Voldemort was still out there, probably killing someone at this very moment. All that mattered was the heroin, and it felt so good. After the first surge of euphoria Harry came back down and felt he could face his friends again. He rolled down his sleeves and went to open the door. They were all waiting at the end of the hall and he smiled at them, motioning for them to come back inside. As they returned Ron gave him a strange look.

"Harry, I thought you said you wanted to change your clothes. You're still wearing the same outfit."

Harry looked down at his body and silently cursed. "Er…yeah, I was going to…but it turns out, er, none of my other clothes were clean. Must have forgotten to do the laundry." He smiled sheepishly hoping they would accept the lie.

After a moment they seemed to buy it, and Harry relaxed again. As the conversation continued, Harry tuned them out and smiled dazedly to himself. He should have been alarmed that he had just lied to his best friend, but really it was just one little white lie. It was no big deal, and it was worth feeling this good. Heroin really was an amazing drug.


	3. Nothing Lasts Forever

Author's Note: Hooray for winter break! I've been able to write so much these past two days, but once I go back to school that will slow down...a lot. sigh. So enjoy it while it lasts, and don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: This all belongs to Jo. Well, maybe not the heroin-shooting Harry, but you know what I mean ; )

**Chapter 3**

Harry went down to dinner that night and was greeted by almost everyone in the Order. Most of them only had time to quickly say their hellos and then be off, but Harry noticed they somehow managed to stay an extra few minutes, during which many shot quick glances at his forehead. Harry felt that he had never flattened his bangs more times in his life, and was relieved when the majority of them left. It seemed only Snape and Dumbledore had been absent, a fact that didn't bother Harry in the slightest. He would gladly put off that reunion indefinitely.

Now the kitchen had been emptied out until there was only Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, their two youngest children, Hermione, Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, and himself. The other Weasley children were working that night, and Harry could tell Mrs. Weasley was rather subdued because of it. Lupin and Mr. Weasley were discussing the latest news on werewolves. On the other side of the table Hermione and Ginny were gossiping about something that was evidently making Ron's ears turn a handsome shade of pink. Harry wasn't really paying attention to either conversation, and almost jumped when Dung suddenly spoke up.

" 'arry, you don't know 'ow sorry I was to 'ear 'bout ol' Sirius. Good fella 'e was. 'elped me outta a tight spot on more 'n one occasion. 'e said I could stay 'ere for as long as I needed too. Good man."

All the other conversations quickly died down. Ron was looking back and forth between Harry and Dung, mouth slightly open. Hermione was staring at Harry as if afraid of what might come out of his mouth in response. But it was Lupin who actually stepped in and saved Harry from having to think up a suitable answer.

"Yes Dung, he was a good man. Ginny will you pass the potatoes?" As Ginny moved to comply Lupin looked at Harry and said in an undertone, "Harry meet me in the sitting room after dinner. I have some things I would like to discuss with you." He looked away again. "Thank you Ginny. These look delicious. Molly did you make these yourself?" And with that Lupin steered the conversation back into safe territory.

Harry, however, was no longer hungry. He had a good idea what it was Lupin wanted to discuss with him and was not eager to do so. Out of nerves, he began to scratch at his right arm.

"Got yourself a rash there Harry?" Ginny asked good naturedly.

Harry immediately dropped his hand to his side, and spent the rest of dinner gripping the seat of his chair.

* * *

"Harry, have a seat. Sorry to have kept you waiting. Molly wanted to talk about…things." Harry turned around from where he was staring into the fireplace to look at Lupin sitting himself down in a chair. Harry could tell that by 'things' he had meant Harry. He silently complied with the request and sat down upon the couch closest to him, and farthest from Lupin.

Lupin sat silently for a few moments, as if trying to collect his thoughts. Harry waited impatiently, unable to get comfortable on the slightly lumpy couch. Finally Lupin broke the silence.

"When we were younger, Sirius was the first one to discover what I really was. Instead of being afraid or shunning me, he offered to listen anytime I wanted to talk about it." Lupin was staring off into space, lost in the memory. "I'll never forget the feeling of relief that came over me when I realized I wasn't loosing our friendship." He now turned to Harry. "Harry, I'm not your godfather and I would never try to replace him but if you want to have someone who will be there to listen, you can always come to me. I think it would do us both some good to talk about him."

Harry's answer came quick and angry, "I'm fine. Why does everyone seem to think I need to talk about it? Maybe I don't want to talk about him." He crossed his arms across his chest glaring at Lupin.

"No one ever truly wants to talk about these things Harry, but it's the best way to move on. Bottling up these emotions can only lead to trouble."

Harry's mind flashed to a spoon and syringe, but he quickly suppressed those thoughts. "I'm fine," he repeated.

Lupin sighed in defeat. "Alright, if you insist. Well there is another matter I have to discuss with you, but it pains me to do so. Sirius' will was found a few weeks ago."

Harry had a sharp intake of breath.

Remus continued, "And almost everything was left to you, including this house."

"I don't want-"

Lupin held up his hand, cutting Harry off. "I know you don't want it, and neither would I if I were in your shoes. But it's very useful as headquarters and the Order would like permission to keep on using it."

Harry shrugged, "Alright I guess." His leg started trembling. "Can I go now?"

Harry could see on Lupin's face that this was not what he wanted to hear, but nevertheless he conceded, "Yes Harry, you may leave if you wish."

Harry stood up and left the room as quickly as possible. Once outside the door he leaned his body against the cool wall taking in deep breaths, eyes closed. He didn't want to discuss Sirius, least of all his will. It made his death so real, so final. No one was alive after their will had been read. When Harry finally got himself under control he rushed upstairs to his bedroom only to be greeted with the sight of Ron and Hermione doing some serious snogging on Ron's bed. Harry could only stand in the doorway with a look of shock on his face. When Hermione realized he was there, she sprang apart from Ron faster than Harry had thought humanly possible.

"Harry," she said breathlessly. "You, you should have knocked. That was um, well we were going to tell you, but er, you see…" she trailed off looking at Ron for support.

Despite his reddening face, Ron chuckled shaking his head slightly, "Harry what Hermione is trying to say is that we," he motioned between himself and Hermione, "are now a couple. I hope that's alright with you. It happened only a few days ago and we were going to tell you later this week once you'd been settled."

Harry recovered slightly, "Oh."

"Well then, look at the time! I think, I think I'll be going now. I'll see you boys later. Goodnight." Hermione practically fled from the room.

The two boys were left to stare at each other. Harry broke the silence. "Well that was certainly unexpected."

Ron began to grin, "Yeah, I know it's a bit of a shock, but I really like her Harry."

Harry couldn't hold back his laugh. "No not that. I knew you were in love with her since 4th year. What's surprising is that I think that was the first time I've ever seen Hermione at a loss for words."

Ron's grin was devilish now. "Actually there has been one other time. It happened just recently in fact."

"Do I even want to know?"

Ron thought about that for a minute. "Well, maybe not." He switched topics. "So what was it Professor Lupin wanted to talk to you about?"

Harry immediately stopped smiling. "Nothing important. Just Order business, you know." He shrugged it off. "I'm getting tired. Reckon we should turn in for the night?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

They changed into their pajamas and got ready for bed. Harry lay awake some time later, unable to fall asleep. Despite what he said earlier, knowing his friends liked each other and then seeing them together we two entirely different things. He kept fidgeting around, his muscles aching, begging him for some more heroin. He forced himself to stop moving for a minute while he strained his hearing for Ron's telltale snores. Sure enough, he was sound asleep in the opposite bed. Harry got out of his own bed as silently as he could, but it seemed that every floor board was determined to alert the house of his movements.

Finally he made it over to his trunk and gathered up his supplies. It was too risky to shoot himself up right there, so he headed down the hall to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he yanked the floral pattern curtain shut, and lay his head back against the tub, knees slightly bent to fit his body. He still had the belt securely tightened around his right bicep as his head lolled back and forth. The bathroom was nice, he decided, plenty of privacy.

* * *

A week past as Harry readjusted himself to life in Grimmauld Place once again. The bathroom had become his sanctuary. Whenever he felt the need to shoot up, he would retire to the tub where he could do his business in privacy. And now that Hermione and Ron were a couple, Harry was able to quietly slip away whenever they wanted some 'alone time.' It was an ideal situation, but there was a hitch: Ginny.

Harry got the impression that she knew he was up to something. She never out rightly denied him space or alone time, but he could tell she was suspicious. Harry decided not to think too much about it though. She didn't know what he was doing, and she had no proof. What did concern Harry, however, was his stash. He was starting to run low and had no idea how he would survive if he ran out. He knew the only reason he was able to live in this house without being plagued by nightmares was because of the drugs. He would need to find some way to get more.

He was sitting at the breakfast table, moving his sausage around his plate with his fork as he mulled over ideas in his head. Maybe the floo network? Sitting at the table with him was the same group from the first night's dinner, plus Tonks, who had joined them for a cup of coffee. He vaguely heard the now purple haired witch excuse herself to use the bathroom. A few minutes later he was awakened from his reverie by the angry sound of her voice reentering the room.

"Will someone please explain to me what the hell is _this?!" _

Tonks threw a syringe and empty baggie onto the table, startling everyone. Harry felt the all the blood drain from his face as the needle rolled back and forth slightly until it stopped in front of him.

Ron spoke up first, though his mouth was full of sausage. "Tonks wuds da madder? What's dat ting? Looks painful." He shuddered and Molly Weasley lightly smacked him on the head.

"Swallow before you speak Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley turned to Tonks. "Now dear, what's all the fuss about? I've never seen one of those things before. Is it a muggle contraption? Arthur do you know what it is? Has it anything to do with electrikity?"

Tonks cut Arthur off before he could speak. "Yes it's a muggle thing. It's called a syringe. I found it in the waste bin in the bathroom and someone in this house has been using it." She glared at everyone seated around the table. Harry tried not to visibly gulp, but he felt a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach.

Ron, who had managed to finish chewing, still seemed confused. "What do you mean using it? What? Do they poke the baggie with it?"

Tonks shot him a look that could kill. "When I mean use it I mean that they are injecting themselves with the _drugs_ in that bag by sticking that syringe into their arm." She looked disgusted as she said the words.

Hermione let out a gasp and reached for the bag. She picked it up and began to inspect it. After a minute she set the bag down again and looked at Tonks. "This is heroin isn't it?"

Tonks narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously. "Yes it is. And how would you know that?"

Hermione didn't seemed fazed by the accusation in her tone. "Same way as you, I expect. Growing up with muggles teaches you things."

The Weasleys looked back and forth between the two women before Ron spoke up again. "Alright what are we missing? What's all this about heron?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, immediately going into dictionary mode.

"Her-o-in Ronald, not heron. It's a mind altering drug that originates from opium in the poppy plant. It can be inhaled, smoked or inserted through use of needle." She made a sound of disgust. "Which is clearly what the person here has done."

Tonks interjected. "It's a disgusting muggle habit that is extremely unsafe and addictive. No respectable wizard would use it." Harry thought it was a bit hypocritical of _Tonks_ to preach about 'respectable wizards.'

Hermione looked thoughtful at that last comment. "Actually there seems to be a mass epidemic of use among squib communities. They seem to think they can forget about their problems in life by being high all the time."

Ron stared at her. "I've never heard of that. How do you know all of this?"

"I _read_ Ronald. It's in plenty of books, but it's not widely publicized. People would rather pretend the problem doesn't exist."

Mrs. Weasley stood up from her seat and looked around the table. Harry was determinedly staring at the nearest teapot, which had a blue knit tea cozy surrounding it.

"Alright who has been using this, this heroin drug? I want an answer now!" Mrs. Weasley stared straight at Dung who was half-asleep with his elbow propped on the table. She clearly thought he was the most likely suspect.

Ginny on the other hand, had other ideas. She spoke in a small but determined voice. "Why don't you ask Harry?"

Harry heard the room go silent as he whipped his head up to stare daggers at his accuser. Ginny was refusing to look away, and Harry noticed all seven other pairs of eyes were on him as well. His left hand made a move to scratch at his arm, but he quickly suppressed the urge. He tried to compose his features in a look of offended horror, not entirely sure it was all that convincing.

"What are you playing at, trying to accuse me? I haven't done anything. I don't know where that stuff came from, but it sure as hell wasn't me." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Alright Harry, then explain to everyone where you've been sneaking off to all the time. I know you lock yourself in the bathroom whenever you think no one is watching." Ginny wasn't about to back down, but neither was Harry.

"Maybe I have an overactive bladder. In any case it's none of your business."

Harry glared at Ginny, refusing to look at anyone else for fear of what he would see on their faces. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when Ron spoke up for him.  
"Ginny don't accuse Harry like that. People are allowed to use the bathroom, you know. Besides he doesn't 'sneak off'. You're being mental." Ron rolled his eyes at his sister.

Ginny shot back. "_You_ are too involved with your girlfriend to notice Ron. He goes away the second you to leave the room, and comes back looking all dazed. My bet is he is doing _that_," she motioned to the syringe and bag.

Harry was beginning to panic. This was quickly turning into a nightmare. When Ginny's gaze shifted back to his to stare him down, he averted his eyes and returned to the tea cozy. It really was well made. He was just noticing the pattern of the stitching, when Lupin spoke up for the first time. Harry had almost forgotten he was there and inwardly cringed.

"Harry," Harry's head jerked up once more and saw the pain and betrayal in his former professor's eyes. "Is this true? Is Ginny telling the truth?"

Harry's first instinct had always been survival. That would never change. "Of course not! I-I've never seen any of that before!"

Now his gaze searched the table for a friendly face. Ginny was looking determined, Ron and Hermione were slowly becoming more and more horrified, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting back, unsure of how to act, Dung was still out of it, and Tonks looked like she could kill. She had her hands splayed across the table and was leaning towards him.

"Well there's one way to know if he's telling the truth. Roll up your sleeves!" Tonks barked the order at him.

Harry blanched. The Weasleys looked confused.

"What are his sleeves going to prove?" Harry couldn't help but notice how truly ignorant Ron was in all of this.

"You'll see. Harry come now, just roll up your sleeves and you can prove to us all how innocent you are." Tonks tried to adopt a convincingly soothing voice, but it clearly said she didn't expect him to be innocent at all. Harry was suddenly very afraid of this purple haired auror.

There was nothing he could do; if he didn't, Tonks would just force him. She was normally a good natured witch, but Harry could tell she was in auror-mode. She would get an answer out of him no matter what.

Slowly he leaned back in his chair and unfolded his arms. He first unbuttoned his right cuff and then his left. Harry started rolling up his sleeve as calmly as possible, praying no one would notice the marks in his arm. Maybe they wouldn't see and all of this would blow over. The right sleeve was done first; then he set to work on the left. All the while he kept his elbows bent so no one could get a good view of his arm. When he finished both sleeves, he put his hands down by his sides.

"Harry, put your arms out so we can have a look." Lupin said quietly.

Harry couldn't bring himself to look into their faces, so with a sigh he closed his eyes and stretched his arms, wrists up, out in front of him. He knew by the gasps that they had seen it. Track marks, tiny little puncture wounds, riddled the crook of both arms. They stood out brightly against his pale skin and some were scabbing over while others were fresh from repeated use. Harry quickly dropped his arms and pushed his sleeves back down over his wounds.

The silence was broken by the sound of Hermione's chair scraping across the floor as she rose to her feet. Her voice was laced with venom and hurt.

"How could you be so stupid Harry?!"

Harry vaguely thought that at least she was no longer tiptoeing around his feelings. He just shrugged.

"Don't just sit there and shrug! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Harry looked up, and matched her glare for glare. "You're yelling not talking. And what do you want me to say, huh? That I use heroin? Yes, the needle and bag are mine, and so is the spoon and belt I have upstairs. Are you happy now?"

Hermione looked as if she'd been struck. "Of course I'm not happy Harry. How could this make anyone happy? My best friend is a heroin addict, and I- we," she motioned to herself and Ron, "didn't even notice."

"I'm not an addict," Harry grudgingly mumbled.

Tonks spoke again, "Oh yes you are. Don't lie to yourself, or us Harry. How long have you been using?"

Harry dropped his gaze and muttered, "Four weeks." He couldn't look up again as Lupin spoke.

"Alright we need to get rid of this stuff. I won't allow any more of this heroin to stay here." He moved to stand. "Harry is there more?"

At the mention of loosing his stash, Harry's whole body began to ache for a hit. He snapped out viciously, "This is my house. Sirius left it to _me._ If I want to keep smack in it, then I damn well will."

"Oh no you won't mister, not while the rest of us live here," Tonks said while pulling Harry up by the bicep. "Now, take us to the rest of this crap."

Harry was steered out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He noticed only Tonks and Remus joined him.

When he entered his bedroom he couldn't bring himself to open his trunk, so he just motioned towards it. Lupin got the hint, and began digging through its contents. When he pulled out Harry's supplies of syringes, spoon, and what few baggies he had left, Harry made to grab them, but Tonks held him tightly.

They marched back downstairs, and Harry could do nothing but watch helplessly as Lupin picked up the syringe and bag on the table and tossed them into the fireplace along with the rest of Harry's supplies.

"No! please, take them out! I promise I won't do it again, just don't burn it all," Harry pleaded to Lupin. When that didn't work, he tried another tactic. "Do you have any idea how expensive that shit was? Take it out of the fire right now!"

He looked around at the room of unsympathetic faces, and felt his world closing in on him. His legs gave out from under him, and Tonks released his arm as he dropped to the floor.

"I- I _need _that stuff. You don't understand. My, my nightmares. They'll come back if I don't have it. I can't survive, I'll die, believe me I'll die." Harry was practically sobbing by the end. He watched through his tears as his precious heroin all burned away. Nothing was left, nothing. What was he going to do? He felt Mrs. Weasley come over to him and lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Come up to bed dear. It will all be better in the morning."

Harry allowed himself to be steered out of the kitchen once more. He knew what she was saying wasn't true. He could already feel his body craving another hit. The muscle aches would start in soon, and he wouldn't be able to sleep. Well that was something. He would be saved from his nightmares for a little while at least. But everything would be so much better if he could just have one more dose.

He didn't even bother changing out of his clothes; he just kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto his bed. Mrs. Weasley bade him good night, and closed the door. Harry curled himself into a ball, and couldn't hold back the sobs of pain. A little while later he heard the door open, and Ron stepped into the room. He avoided looking at Harry as he collected his pillow, blanket and a change of pajamas. So they weren't letting him stay with him? Apparently he was too _dangerous _for Ron to sleep in the same room with. Or maybe Ron didn't want to be with Harry; maybe he couldn't stand the sight of him any longer. Harry turned his back to his friend and stared at the wall.

It was 12:01 when Ron finally closed the door.

"Happy Birthday mate," he whispered into the room.

Harry didn't hear.


	4. Breaking The Habit

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK Rowlings, and I seriously hope she doesn't shoot me for turning Harry into a heroin-drug-addict-going-through-withrawal. hehe enjoy and don't forget to review

**Chapter 4**

Harry wanted to die. It was as simple as that. There was no way a body could endure this much pain. He was currently leaning against the toilet waiting for the next bout of nausea to hit. Laying his head against the cool white porcelain, he felt the cold seep into his burning cheek.

Leaning against the open doorframe with her arms folded across her chest was Tonks. The rest of the house had decided that Harry shouldn't be left alone so Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Tonks volunteered to rotate shifts in being his 'keeper'.

"Come on Harry; let's get you back in bed. I think you've thrown up the entire past week's meals."

Tonks had seemed to calm down a bit since last night. At least the venom was gone from her voice. Harry was ready to comply when another wave of nausea hit. He ducked his head into the bowl and didn't surface for another minute. When the urge to vomit finally subsided, he could feel Tonks hoisting him to his feet.

"Well, maybe we'll bring a waste bin with us, just in case."

Harry couldn't manage a reply. He just followed her into the hall and headed towards his room, clutching his stomach. He caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror, and what he saw startled him. His pupils were the size of pinpricks; his eyes bloodshot and red, an unnatural sight against the green of his irises. He had removed his shirt last night when his temperature shot up, and now his entire torso and face were beaded with sweat. His hair was matted and sticking to the back of his neck. But worst of all were the trackmarks in his arms. They stood out even more than last night, a visible reminder to everyone of what he had done.

As he continued pass the mirror, it spoke out to him. "You look awful dearie. Go take a shower and then head straight back to bed. That hair could do with some brushing as well."

No, that wasn't what Harry needed. What would solve all of his problems was just one more hit. That's all he wanted, just enough to tie him over and make the pain stop. He entered his room and climbed back into bed, propping his back against the wall. He drew his legs together and held them tightly against his chest. It was an attempt to stop them from trembling, but it only resulted in making his whole body shake.

Tonks sat down on Ron's bed and pulled out a copy of the daily prophet. From behind the curtain of newsprint, she spoke to Harry.

"Says here that Fudge is now claiming that he's been supporting the Order behind the scenes for the past year now. Sounds to me like someone doesn't want to lose his job, the pathetic little coward."

Harry just groaned, but Tonks continued on.

"He's acting like all of last year had never happened, and somehow he's getting away with it. If you ask me, he should be sacked. He should be forced to deal with the consequences." She lowered the paper and gazed piercingly at Harry. "And so should you. What you've been doing was idiotic. I just can't believe that you-"

The sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice coming from down the hall interrupted her tirade.

"Tonks will you step outside for a moment?"

She gave Harry a look that said she would finish this later, then left the room. Harry hugged his knees tighter to his chest. To take his mind off the pain, he tried concentrating on the conversation outside his door. If he strained his ears he could just faintly make out what they were saying.

"We can't keep him like this. He needs to go to St. Mungo's," Mrs. Weasley's frazzled voice carried into the room.

"If we do that, then he'll be all over the papers by this time tomorrow. Harry would never forgive us." That was Lupin quietly speaking.

He cringed as he heard Tonks' response. "Maybe that would teach him a lesson."

Mrs. Weasley reprimanded her. "Shhh! Nymphadora! Please, Harry doesn't need that sort of trouble. Remus is right, but I still think he needs a heeler. The poor dear, I don't even know how long this is supposed to last…" She trailed off.

Harry was surprised when he heard the sound of Hermione's matter-of-fact voice cut across the silence. "I've flooed over to my parent's house and did some research. Apparently withdrawal should last for about a week-"

"A week?!" Molly cried.

"-if he survives. I think we need to get Madame Pomfrey."

"I'll do it," Lupin supplied. "I'm meeting Dumbledore at Hogwarts in about an hour."

Hermione sounded afraid. "Sir, are you going to tell him about Harry?"

There was a moment's pause before Lupin answered. "Dumbledore knows, Hermione. He wants a report on Harry's…condition."

Harry suddenly felt nauseous again. He reached the waste bin just in the nick of time. When he was through, his body was trembling more than ever, the words 'Dumbledore knows' ringing through his head.

* * *

As days past, Harry lived in a state of semi-consciousness broken up by moments of lucidity. For the most part he just stayed on the bathroom floor near the toilet, having accepted the fact that his body was determined to purge itself of every last ounce of food in his system. They had moved a few blankets and pillows into the bathroom for his comfort, which now lay in a heap in the tub.

During one of his bouts of wakefulness Harry was aware that Madame Pomfrey came to see him. She was carrying a bag of medical supplies and placed it down on the tile floor as she tut-tutted her way into the bathroom. Harry tilted his head up at the elderly nurse, his eyes unfocused.

"Mr. Potter, I had rather hoped that I wouldn't be seeing you again until at least _after_ the school year started." She had her hands on her hips. "However you have always been a special case. Now, sit yourself up off the floor so that I can have a look at you."

Harry slowly raised himself up and sat on the edged of the tub. Madame Pomfrey bent over his shivering body. He could see the concern in her eyes.

"Honestly Potter, muggle drugs? I could cure any type of potion before you could say 'skele-grow,' but I know nothing about these muggle concoctions. I'm afraid I can't give you any pain-relieving potions. It might react badly with whatever it is you have in your system."

Her gaze dropped down to the marks in his arms. With a frown, she bent over to retrieve a salve from her medical bag.

"Now let me see what I can do about those puncture wounds." She reached out to grab Harry's right arm, but he tightly folded both across his chest.

Pomfrey tutted. "Come now Mr. Potter. Let me heal those marks. They could be infected."

"I'm fine."

"Mr. Potter-"

"I'm fine!" Harry couldn't bear the thought of his marks disappearing. He had already lost the heroin. He would be damned if he lost the only physical memory he had left of the wonderful drug.

Madame Pomfrey let out a sigh and shook her head. "At least let me wash them with soap and water."

Harry slowly uncrossed his arms and allowed the nurse to gently scrub his wounds with a washcloth.

When she was finished she gripped his chin up and tilted his head so she could look at his eyes. "Your pupils are returning to normal size. Auror Tonks informed me that they were smaller than pins before. This is a good sign."

Harry's voice cracked as he tried to speak, his eyes pleading. "I- I need-," his voice failed and he tried again. "Please, no one has to know. You're- you're a nurse, you could get me some-"

Pomfrey cut him off. "That is enough Mr. Potter. I will in no way help you harm yourself."

"But I can't take it. This- it hurts," Harry whispered in a moan.

Madame Pomfrey retrieved a blanket from behind him and draped it across his shoulders. The wool scratched at his bare back.

Her voice was clip as she spoke. "You have abused a mind-altering substance Mr. Potter. Your body is now trying to adjust to life without it after a month of it constantly running through your system. I would expect it to hurt. Now, you should keep drinking water. Despite the pain, you won't die from it, but dehydration might kill you. And make sure you keep eating as well."

Harry blanched at the idea of more food in his stomach.

"I expect to see you feeling better in a few days time. Good day to you Mr. Potter." She turned on her heel and left the room, pausing only briefly to pick up her bag. Harry heard her say a few words to Lupin outside of the door, and then she was gone.

* * *

Time passed differently depending on whose turn it was to keep an eye on him. Molly would coddle him, holding him in her arms while speaking soothing words in an undertone. Remus would sit in a corner and refuse to look at him. At different points Harry remembered that Lupin would start to speak and then seem to think better of it. Tonks just mostly read the paper, though on occasion she would turn the tap on to let Harry take a sip of water. She may have been angry, but at least she didn't refuse to help him.

The one thing that was constant no matter whose shift, was that Ginny always brought his meals. He couldn't understand why she would be willing to do that, but didn't think much on it. Most of the time, she just said hi, placed the plate down, and left. But on one occasion during one of Harry's better moments, Ginny came in with a bowl of soup and sat herself down next to Harry on the floor. Harry was alert and had managed to stop shaking. She motioned for Lupin to leave them for a minute then turned to look at Harry.

"Well, you're looking better today Harry. Is that a new hairdo? I'm sorry but Professor Snape pulls off the 'I'm-to-important-to-wash-my-hair' look a bit better than you." She smiled at him and Harry felt a small chuckle escape his lips.

Her smile brightened. "It's good to see you can still laugh Harry."

He instantly sobered. This was all her fault. If Ginny had just kept her mouth shut, then none of this would have happened. He looked at her darkly.

"What do you want Ginny?"

"To talk to you. You haven't exactly been all there these past few days, but I thought we should speak."

"I don't want to talk, least of all to you." Harry grabbed the soup and started shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth.

Ginny didn't seem to want to back down. "Don't be such a prat. I know you hate me right now, but there's no reason why you can't still have some manners. And that includes closing your mouth while you chew. Gah, you remind me so much of Ron sometimes." She made a disgusted face and Harry begrudgingly slowed down his eating. He swallowed the soup and immediately regretted eating so quickly. He was beginning to feel queasy again.

"Alright Ginny what is it you wanted to talk about?"

She looked thoughtful. "Well, we could start with the weather, or I could just dive right in and ask how the hell did you become addicted to heroin. I've always thought of myself as a brave person, being Gryffindor and all that, so let's skip the weather. It's cloudy outside in any case."

Harry had forgotten how bold Ginny could be. He supposed that's what one got for growing up with six brothers. He dipped his head and looked at the floor. His right hand came up to scratch at his arm in nervousness. Ginny noticed and laid her hand on top of his to stop the movement. She pulled both their hands away slowly and looked closer at his arm.

Her voice softened. "That must have hurt," she said nodding towards the trackmarks.

Harry just shrugged and jerked his arms away. He suddenly felt extremely exposed and wished he had a shirt to cover himself up. He started to shiver again slightly.

"I know you might not think it Harry, but everything will be alright."

Harry could feel he was about to be sick again.  
"Ginny, you-you should leave now." He crawled his way over to lean across the toilet.

She moved to stand up and started walking away. At the door she paused and turned her head back towards Harry.

"I'll stop pestering you Harry. Clearly I'm making you sick." She chuckled to herself. "I didn't know I had that kind of power over men. I'll have to try it out sometime on my brothers." Her tone turned serious again. "When you want to talk, I'll be here."

She walked out of the room and Lupin returned. Harry emptied the contents of his meal into the toilet. Then the muscle aches and shivering returned.

* * *

Eight days had past since Harry's stash had been forcibly confiscated from him. He had fallen asleep in the bathtub and awoke to the sounds of birds chirping. He had a terrible headache, but other than that was feeling incredibly better. His body had survived withdrawal, and the heroin was now gone from his system. Harry looked up to see Mrs. Weasley staring down at him with a smile on her face.

"Hello Harry dear. It's good to see you awake. I've just finished making breakfast and everyone is downstairs eating. I know they're all anxious to see you dear."

Harry stood up out of the tub and looked down at his grimy body. He hadn't bathed in a week.

"Uh, do you mind if I get a shower first? I'd feel a lot better."

"Of course Harry. I've washed all your things, so I'll just leave a change of clothes by the door. Come down when you're finished."

Harry turned on the taps and took as much time as possible scrubbing himself clean. Not until the water started to turn cold did he finally step out and towel himself off. He retrieved his clothes from the hallway, got dressed, and slowly descended the stairs. He stood outside of the kitchen door unable to go any farther. His hands reached for the doorknob three times before he finally found the courage to turn it all the way and step inside. The effect was instantaneous. The room went deathly quiet, everyone staring up at him in shock. Mrs. Weasley was the first to recover.

"Have a seat Harry. There's bacon and sausage, or some toast if you would like."

Harry did as he was told and looked down at the table. "Toast would be fine, thank you," he muttered.

The sound of Ron's voice made him look up. "It's good to see you looking better mate."

During the past week Harry hadn't seen much of Ron or Hermione. At the time, the fact hadn't fazed him, but now their lack of appearances bothered him.  
"What would you know about it!? Haven't been around much lately, have you? Been snogging your girlfriend the whole time? I bet you've been having a jolly good time this past week, huh!?"

"I have a name, you know Harry. And Ron and I would have come and seen you, but- well, we thought you might've wanted some privacy." Hermione looked away.

Harry let out a bark of a laugh. "HA! All I've wanted from the start was some privacy!" His look turned murderous and his eyes snapped to Ginny. "But _you_ had to go and ruin all that, now didn't you? You are all so unbelievable-"

"That's quite enough now Harry."

Harry's face paled as he heard the quiet old voice of his headmaster coming from the entryway.

"Why don't you follow me into the sitting room?"

It was stated as a request, but Harry knew he had no choice in the matter. Harry stood and followed Dumbledore from the room. The older wizard conjured up a chintz armchair, while Harry took a seat in the same couch from his conversation with Lupin. He quickly glanced at his headmaster before turning to look at the fireplace. He saw no twinkle in the old man's eyes. They sat in silence for a few moments, while the fire threw shadows across their faces. Dumbledore steepled his fingers together and peered at Harry through his half-moon spectacles.

"Harry, I know recent events have been hard on you. I know Sirius' death affected you greatly, and the prophesy is no small burden, however, I am extremely disappointed that you have turned to a muggle drug to solve your issues. I had thought you were better than that."

Harry couldn't help but argue, "Hermione said that squibs used heroin too."

"Miss Granger is forever surprising me with her vast amount of knowledge. However, it _is_ a muggle drug, Harry. Squibs have simply taken a likening to it."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued.

"I am at a loss at what to do Harry. While it is not the school year, you have nevertheless violated many wizarding and muggle laws alike. I feel that you need to be punished."

Harry could feel his anger building. "Go ahead, punish me! Reprimand me! Swat me on the hand and say what a bad boy I've been! It's what you do best."

"Harry what you've done is not the misbehavings of a petulant child. This is a serious issue and as such, I will treat you like the adult you wish to be. Therefore, I have decided to suspend you from the first Quidditch game of the season. And your Hogsmeade privileges are being stripped from you. And effective immediately you will begin group counseling to deal with your problem. Finally, if you haven't made enough progress by the end of August, you will not be allowed to return to school. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Harry stared angrily into Dumbledore's eyes. "I don't have a problem, _sir_. I don't have any more heroin. They burned it all." he spat.

Dumbledore sighed, "But that doesn't mean you're cured Harry. That is the reason for the counseling."

But Harry had another thought. "I can't go to counseling. Aren't you supposed to talk about your life and stuff there? I can't exactly explain Voldemort to a group of muggles."

Dumbledore dropped his hands and stood up, disturbing the shadows across his face. The armchair vanished behind him.

"Ah yes, but as you said before, squibs use heroin as well. There are plenty of counseling facilities that know all about Voldemort and would understand your problems completely. You will be informed of your first session shortly. Now if you will excuse me, I must be off. I have other business to attend to. Good-day Harry."

And with that, Dumbledore apparated from the room with a slight pop and a swish of his starry-blue robes.

Harry almost swore he had seen a slight twinkle in the headmaster's eye, but it could have just been a trick of the light.


	5. Much Needed Therapy

Author's Note: Wow I'm so sorry this chapter has taken so long to finish. I've been up to my eyeballs in SATs, finals, and a new semester. Plus, I seemed to have developed a seriously annoying case of writer's block. So I know it's been over a month, but the chapter is finally done! I'm not sure if I like it yet, but it's necessary for things to come. Thanks to those of you who reviewed so far. I promise to try and keep future updates more regular ; ) keep reviewing and I hope you enjoy!

PS: who esle is ridiculously excited for Harry Potter and the Deathy Hallows on 7/21/07!!!!!!

PPS: If anyone wants to see how I envision Harry in this story, just look at the promotional pics for Equus. When did he get so good looking?

Disclaimer: Heroin addicts aside, all of this belongs to Jo.

**Chapter 5**

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Harry returned to the kitchen. Only Tonks was left however, and Harry gave a silent prayer of thanks that he wouldn't have to deal with anyone else. She looked up from where she was sitting, taking a gulp of coffee.

"Wotcher, Harry. It seems I'm the slowest eater in this house. Everyone else left about five minutes ago." she took a bite of sausage and swallowed. "You hungry?"

Harry was about to decline when his stomach growled an affirmative. He realized he never did eat that toast Mrs. Weasley gave him.

Tonks chuckled at his stomach's behavior. "I'll take that as a yes. Have a seat. You can have the rest of my bacon. I would _make_ you something, but Mrs. Weasley made me swear that I wouldn't go near the stove. She seems to think I'm clumsy or something." Tonks winked.

Harry did as he was told, and shoveled her bacon onto his plate. As he ate, he became increasingly puzzled by Tonk's friendly behavior. She was acting as if the past week had never happened.

She took another swig of coffee and set her mug down. "Listen, I want to apologize for the way I've been acting. Not that I'm sorry for what I did, mind you. But I could have been a bit nicer. I have a bit of a temper." She smiled sheepishly. "But, I don't want you thinking I'm some old grump like Moody, so what do you say? Friends again?"

Harry stared down at his empty plate as he thought over her words.

"Alright," he muttered not really meaning it. She was the reason he didn't have the heroin anymore. And now she wanted to be friends? He was just too exhausted to argue, but Tonks seemed satisfied with his response.

"Good. That'll make my job a lot easier. Dumbledore's made me your personal escort to and from therapy. The first meeting is tonight-"

"It's starting already?" He knew he was being forced into this, but he didn't know it would happen so soon.

"The sooner the better. I'll swing by to pick you up around seven." She looked at her wristwatch. "Oh, I have to run."

As she went to stand up, she lost her balance, sending herself and the bench crashing to the floor. Harry, who was thankfully on the other side of the table, couldn't help but laugh. She joined in as she untangled herself from the furniture and got to her feet.

"Ok, so maybe I'm a _bit_ clumsy. See you at seven." And she left the room. Harry finished eating in silence then quietly crept back upstairs. He spent the rest of the day avoiding everyone. And he did a fairly good job of it, only having to see them all at lunch and supper, both of which were solemn, awkward affairs. the day had passed quickly, and the hour hand on his wristwatch was quickly approaching seven.

Harry was lying on his bed when a knock sounded from the other side of the door, startling him out of his reverie.

"Harry, Tonks is here. She's waiting down in the foyer," Mrs. Weasley said as she gently opened the door.

Harry sighed as he slowly got up and laced up his trainers. Mrs. Weasley was watching him with concern.

"Everything will be alright dear. Nothing to worry about."

Harry couldn't think of a proper response, so he simply walked past her towards the staircase. She made a move as if to reach out and hug him, but seemed to think better of it at the last second.

Tonks was examining herself in a mirror when Harry reached the bottom of the steps. She turned around and Harry was surprised to see an elderly lady smiled back at him with a hooked nose that reminded him suspiciously of a certain professor.

The voice that came out the old woman's toothy grin was definitely Tonks though. "Well what do you think? I'm not sure about the nose. Is it large enough? Maybe if I just added a wart or two. Hmmm…" She turned around to face the mirror again.

"It's um… fine. It's a good size really." Harry had the feeling that if he told any other woman, besides Tonks, that her nose was large enough as it is, his cheek would be aching and red for weeks. Tonks just smiled.  
"You're right. Let's be off shall we?" She led them out of the front door and into the warm summer night air. Harry, who hadn't been outside in weeks, was both delighted and confused. Tonks made a left and began walking down the curb.

"Wait, we aren't flooing there?" Harry asked as he caught up with her.

"Course not. The good thing about living in London is that you can walk to just about anywhere. The building is just a few blocks down. It'll take no more than five minutes to get to."

Harry suddenly had the urge to slow down their pace, but for an old woman, Tonks was remarkably fast, and refused to go slower. In almost no time, they were standing outside the stone steps leading up to a building which read 'Magically Challenged Heroin Addicts Anonymous' in small fading letters next to the main entrance.  
"Can't muggles see that too?" Harry asked, half curious, half stalling for time.

"Of course not. To them it reads "Al's Used Tea Sets." Now let's go in." She started up the stairs. Harry reluctantly followed, glancing at the sign again. Another question suddenly popped into his head.

"Wait, what do they mean by 'magically challenged'? I'm not challenged or anything."

"It's another word for squib. They seem to prefer being called 'magically challenged'. I guess squib sounds too demeaning. Harry the thing you have to remember about these people is that their whole lives they've been looked down upon, rejected by wizarding society. Being forced to live like a muggle will expose you to many muggle things wizards will never have to deal with, like heroin. You're not the only wizard to have ever gotten caught up in all this mess, but for the most part, only squibs come here."

She pulled open the glass door and stepped inside. A little chime went off as she and Harry walked thorough, announcing their arrival. They were in a waiting room; the walls had been painted pale green a long time ago, but now some of the paint had chipped away to reveal the plaster underneath. There were chairs placed around the room and a few coffee tables covered with assorted magazines. A tiny little woman was sitting behind a desk and greeted them with a calm smile.

Tonks approached the desk with Harry trailing behind, trying to not look at the woman's pitying smile, as if she had seen a million of people like Harry before.

"We're here for the group session tonight," Tonks said to the lady.

"Name please"

"Harry Potter," Tonks supplied

Harry expected to hear the woman gasp in surprise, but she made no sign of recognition. Instead she asked them to have a seat while they filled out a few forms. Tonks handed the pen and clipboard over to Harry, while she picked up a copy of some home decorating magazine.

"Harry you better fill these out. You know more about yourself than I do."

Harry looked down at the forms, surprised by the sheer normalcy of it all. He was using a pen and regular paper, not quill and parchment, something he hadn't done in years. Most of the questions on the form were extremely ordinary as well. The only thing to suggest that this wasn't entirely a muggle facility was one small question at the bottom of the page.

'Do you possess magic ability? Check the appropriate box.'

Harry completed the forms and went up to the desk to return them. The receptionist smiled again as she took the clipboard from his hands.

"Thank you Mr. Potter. You can head on back now. It's the first door on the right."  
Harry turned around to look at Tonks.

"Go on Harry. I'll be waiting here when you're done."

Without much of a choice, Harry walked through the double doors leading to the back of the building. The walls were green as well and extended down the long corridor. Harry contemplated following the hall to see if it led to a back exit, but ultimately gathered up his courage and entered the door nearest to his right.

The walls in here were a neutral off-white, and the only furniture were about twenty or so chairs placed in a circle around the center of the room. Most of the chairs were already occupied, but no one looked up as he entered. Anonymity was something he hadn't experienced in years, and he found he rather enjoyed it. Here, no one cared who he was or what he was famous for. They had too much of their own shit to deal with to care about him. Harry took a seat and quietly regarded the people sitting opposite him. Some looked healthy while others had deep circles under their eyes and looked as though they hadn't showered in days. They probably hadn't. Most of their clothes were on the shabbier side, but there was one man that was dressed in khakis and a navy blue polo shirt. He was kind looking, if a bit overweight, and his strawberry blond hair was buzzed short. He looked clean and confident, and Harry wasn't that surprised when he started the meeting.

"Hello everyone. I think we've waited long enough." He cleared his throat. "For those of you who are new tonight I say welcome, and for those of you who aren't I say welcome back. We all know why you are here. No need to go over that part. Why don't we start by going around the circle and introducing ourselves? My name is Richard."

He smiled at the person to his left encouraging her to follow his lead. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and she looked at the floor as she said her name. "My name is Cally, and I'm a heroin addict."

The next person went, saying the same mantra a bit more confident this time. "My name is Steve, and I'm a heroin addict."

As each person introduced themselves, stating that they were heroin addicts, Harry realized he would be expected to say the same thing. Not bloody likely. He didn't need to be here, and he wasn't an addict. An addict had no control over himself and was pathetic. He liked heroin; there was no denying that, but he wasn't so bad as to call himself addicted.

One by one people introduced themselves with varying degrees of enthusiasm until it was finally his turn. Harry cleared his throat, suddenly nervous.

"I'm Harry…"

Everyone waited expectantly for him to finish. Richard looked at him as if he understood. "Harry, here everyone accepts that they have a problem. They say they are addicts because they don't deny it. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Why don't you try it again?" He smiled encouragingly.

"Try what? I said my name. I'm not going to say something that isn't true," Harry said, anger flaring.

Someone from the circle, maybe Steve, spoke up. "If it isn't true, then why are you here?"

"I didn't have a choice in the matter. Dumbledore forced-"

The room suddenly erupted into angry muttering. Steve spoke up again, his tone accusing. "Dumbledore? How would you know _that_ wizard?"

"He's the headmaster." Harry shrugged, not understanding why twenty pairs of angry eyes were now fixed on him.

"You're one of them! A _wizard._" Steve spat. "What the hell are you doing here, _wizard?_"

Richard's voice was suddenly heard over the clamor. "Enough! Harry had as much right to be here as the rest of you. There have been wizards here before, and we encourage everyone with an addiction to seek help. So, can we continue please?" He spoke to Harry. "Sometimes it takes a while to accept what you are. Maybe next time you will be able to say it Harry."

Steve made an indignant snort, but remained quiet. The rest of the people quickly introduced themselves, and Richard began talking again.

"Alright, tonight I would like us to share some success stories, ways in which we have overcome our addiction. Cally would you like to start…"

Harry tuned out the rest of the session as he thought about what a waste of time this was. If he did need therapy, which he really didn't, having the entire group hate you because you can do magic is not going to help any. Harry always thought of group therapy as a support system, but these people would drop him and spit on him in an instant.

Finally, the two hours were up, and he was allowed to leave. Many people lingered, talking amongst themselves before leaving, but Harry rushed back into the waiting area as quickly as possible. Tonks was happily chatting with the receptionist, and Harry interrupted impatiently.

"Can we go now? I've had enough of this place for one night?" He crossed his arms, waiting.

"Yeah Harry of course. Sorry Meredith, see you tomorrow." She waved goodbye to the little woman, who she was apparently now on a first name basis with, as she followed Harry outside. Harry was walking very fast, his fists clenched tightly.

"So Harry, how was it?" Tonks asked as she hurried to catch up with him.

"Complete bloody waste of time."

"Well maybe you'll like it better tomorrow."

"Not likely. They all hate me."

"Why would they hate-"

"Because I'm a fucking wizard! Have you ever heard anything more ridiculous in your life? They hate wizards, all of them, even Dumbledore. It's complete bullshit."

"Well, they have a right to be angry at most wizards. But you're going back, no matter how much you protest. So since you have no choice in the matter, I guess you'll just have to make them like you with that Potter charm of yours."

Harry snorted. No way in hell.

* * *

Harry was back. He sat roughly down in an empty chair, as far away from everyone else as possible. Most people chose to ignore him, but a few shot dark glances in his direction. So much for anonymity. 

Closing his eyes, Harry thought about sleeping through the session, but immediately changed his mind. His nightmares had returned last night; the first time in over a month. He had forgotten how vivid they could be. Last night he had seen Sirius die again, but there was a new element to the nightmare. The guy Steve's voice was there and was floating up from the veil: "He was a _wizard_. He deserved it."

Harry had woken up in a cold sweat, screaming until his voice was hoarse. He had woken up Ron too, who tried to get him to talk, but Harry refused. Eventually Ron had gone back to sleep while Harry lay awake for the rest of the night, curled in a ball, too terrified to sleep again.

Harry didn't want a repeat experience in the middle of therapy, so he opened his eyes only to find Richard standing before him. Harry nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise.

"Sorry about that Harry. I was wondering if I could have a word with you in private before we start tonight's session."

Harry just shrugged and allowed Richard to lead the way out of the room. They reentered the green hall, and Richard led them into an unlocked room on the left hand side of the corridor.

"I'm sorry about last night, and how everyone reacted to you. You have to understand, we magically challenged have a hard time seeing wizards in a good light. Most of those people in there have been abandoned by their families, and left to die. That's why so many of them have turned to drugs. But you and they aren't that different. I think for this meeting we should focus on your past, and you should tell them about your aunt and uncle."

Harry was shocked. "How the hell do you know about them, or about me?"

Richard's smile was meant to be reassuring, but it just irritated the hell out of Harry. "Dumbledore is a good friend of mine. The rest of them in there just place him under the 'evil wizard' category, but I know he truly cares about us. He informed me about your past before you got here, so that I could help you better."

"Oh so you think you know everything about me now?"

"No not at all. That would be extremely stupid of me to assume I know all there is to know about you. But I want to help, and to do that, we need to make the rest of the group understand that you are not some arrogant-pretty-boy-wizard, who just wanted to get high."  
"Pretty boy?" Harry wasn't sure how to react to that. He stared at Richard for a few seconds before a small chuckle escaped from his lips. His mouth curved up in a smile.

Richard smiled sheepishly, and Harry decided it wasn't all that bad. "Well you know what I mean. So what do you say? If I ask you a few questions tonight, will you answer them?"

Harry sobered quickly, thinking it over. Finally he shrugged. "I suppose."

"Great! Ok, let's get back to the meeting, shall we?"

They quickly returned to the circle of chairs and took their places.  
"Sorry about the wait everyone. It's time to begin. Hello I'm Richard."

The introductions went like the night before, and when it got to be Harry's turn, he once again refused to finish the sentence. But there was not an angry outcry this time, only Richard just sighing and saying 'maybe next time.' Once everyone was through though, he seemed to have perked up again.

"Alright everyone, tonight is about the past and realizing our pasts may be more similar than we thought. Harry, why don't we start with you? Can you tell us about your childhood?"

Harry thought that was asking a lot. He couldn't just open up to strangers and explain how horrible he'd been treated growing up. He opened his mouth to say no, when Steve cut him off.

"Yes, _wizard_, why don't you tell us about how _daddy_ bought you a broom when you were five, but _mummy_ wouldn't let you ride it until you were seven. That must have been truly _awful_. I can't imagine the _horrors_ you must have faced." Steve rolled his eyes and then glared at Harry.

However, a twisted grin slowly worked its way onto Harry's face, and Harry suddenly wanted to knock Steve down a few pegs and make him squirm.

His voice suddenly confident, Harry began, no longer wanting to hold anything back. "Actually, _mummy _and _daddy_ didn't have time to buy me much of anything seeing as they were murdered when I was only one. I went to live with my_ muggle _aunt and uncle, and I didn't even know I was a wizard 'till I was eleven. They hated me from the first day I was left on their doorstep. Oh but life wasn't all _that_ bad. I had my own cupboard to sleep in. It came with its own set of locks and bolts on the outside; how many kids can say they had one of those while growing up?" Harry was gaining some sick pleasure from seeing the shock form on Steve's face.

"Harry did you have any friends while growing up," Richard asked, staring pointedly at Harry, clearly wanting him to stop with the dark sarcasm.

"No, how could I? My cousin and his bloody gang beat up anyone who talked to me."

"Would they hurt you too?"

"When I wasn't fast enough at escaping, yeah. He was big and fat, while I was pretty damn puny for my age. I'm still on the small side. My friend Ron is over six feet while-"

Someone interrupted, "You said you didn't have any friends."

"Once I got to Hogwarts things changed."

"Like what?" Richard was back to questioning.

"Well, friends for one. That was a new concept to me. Um…celebrating my birthday and Christmas. And my stupid scar."

"What do you mean?"

"What, you don't know? I'm famous in the wizarding world. Everyone is just fucking fascinated with me." Harry's voice dripped with disgust.

Steve, who had been looking guiltier by the minute, suddenly spoke up with renewed vigor. "Ok so he had a pretty shitty childhood, but look he just admitted it: Once he got into the wizarding world, everyone fawned over him."

"Yeah well, I bloody well didn't ask for it, or want it! Famous for killing, who the hell wants to be famous for killing someone when you're one year old? But I couldn't even do that right. I didn't kill him, all the way at least, and now he's back and he's going to kill me." The words were out before he could stop them. But instead of fear on people's faces, there was only confusion.

"What are you talking about?" someone asked.

Richard spoke up. "Harry is famous for destroying a dark wizard named Voldemort when he was younger. Voldemort is back now and still alive."

The named seemed to register for only a few people. Harry couldn't believe it. They don't even know who Voldemort is! Funny that they recognized Dumbledore's name and became angry, but for Voldemort, no reaction. He suddenly realized how isolated squibs were from the rest of the wizarding world. He had the sudden image of Mrs. Figg sitting alone, with only her cats for company. For these people, drugs were their company, what they turned to when no one else cared.

The sound of Richard's voice brought Harry from his thoughts. "So you turned to heroin because you're scared of dying. That is understandable Harry."

"I'm not scared of dying!"

"It sounded like it a second ago."

"Just because I don't want to die, doesn't make me scared." His voice got softer as he looked at the ground and mumbled, "I wanted to stop the nightmares…"

"Nightmares?"

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to continue, but something was opening up in him and he felt he had to get it out. "A- a lot of people have died because of me, for me. Every time I close my eyes I see their deaths, every time. If it wasn't for me, they would all still be alive. I ran into someone who told me I could shoot up and forget about their deaths, the pain, and the guilt. And it was absolutely true. It was the most blissful time of my life. And now its over, and all the shit is back."

"Why do you feel guilty?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough, maybe some other time. Why don't we talk about Voldemort and why he wants to kill you?"

Harry suddenly felt the urge to laugh. He was suggesting the topic as if it was the weather, and he said Voldemort's name without hesitation. This was almost surreal.

"Sure let's talk about why either he or I will have to die, and considering how much magic he knows, it isn't looking too good from where I'm standing."

I think we would all like to know what you mean Harry." No one else besides Richard was talking, but they were all staring at him, this time out of curiosity as oppose to contempt.

Harry decided sod it all and tell the truth. "There's a prophecy about me and him. Basically neither of us can live while the other's alive. And apparently I'm the only person who can defeat him. So no pressure, right?"

"Maybe that pressure contributed to your drug addiction."

"I don't have a drug addiction!" Harry was sick of people telling him that.

"Harry, how many times did you shoot yourself up a day?"

Harry shrugged and mumbled, "twoorthree."

"Sorry, didn't catch that."

Harry spoke up louder. "Two or three…ish. That's not that bad. I was in perfect control."

"And were you in control when your body went through a week of hell as you went through withdrawal?"

"I don't need to here this!" Harry moved to stand up, but someone next to him pulled at his wrist, keeping him from leaving. Harry saw that it was the woman who spoke last night, Cally.

"Sit down." She spoke out of the corner of her mouth. Harry slowly sank back into his seat, and she dropped her hold.

Richard resumed speaking; now leaning forward in his chair towards Harry. "It's an ugly truth. No one wants to face the fact that they have a problem and need help. But Harry you've accomplished so much tonight. Now we just need to get you over this hurdle of denial. You are a heroin addict. Just look at your arms to prove it."

Harry crossed his arms, trying to hide his need to scratch them.

"The heroin is out of your system, but you still want it. I know you do. Everyone here has gone through that. They know what its like to have your life revolve around each hit, to lie to the people you love, to crave the drug, to hate the withdrawal, and to still want more. Together we can fight that and we can stop your nightmares. The group is here for you, but you have to accept that you need to be here. Now introduce yourself to us Harry."

Harry wanted to run, he wanted to run and never come back, but maybe, just maybe Richard was right. "You, you think you can stop my nightmares?"

"We can sure as hell try, but we need you to stop denying what you are. Introduce yourself to us."

Harry took a deep breath. Maybe it was worth a shot. "I'm Harry and…" he tried to say it, but couldn't form the words.

"I know it feels like a sign of defeat and weakness, but admitting it is a victory. Try again."

"I'm Harry and…"

He started again, "I'm Harry and…I'm a-a…heroin addict." The last words were barely above a whisper, but he'd managed it. Harry felt drained, but then he noticed that the group was applauding and smiling. The sudden turnaround of emotions was overwhelming.

Richard was grinning. "Well done. I think that's enough for tonight. Good job everyone." He stood up and others followed his lead. Harry remained seated, trying to take in all that happened tonight.

The woman next to Harry smiled and coughed slightly to get his attention. He turned to look at her. "Good job. I'm Cally by the way, sorry about all of us treating you like shit at the beginning, especially Steve. He's a nice bloke really, just a bit wound up. But who the hell isn't." She grinned and turned to motion to Steve. "Oy, Steve! Get your arse over here and say sorry to our Harry-the-newly-instated-heroin-addict."

Steve came over and extended his hand. "Sorry mate, I didn't know you wasn't like the rest of them. Can you forgive me?"

Harry slowly shook his hand. "I suppose, alright."

Cally smiled and clapped her hands together. "Well I don't know about you boys, but I could use a drink. What do you say? Care to join me at the pub?"

Steve shrugged, "Sure, what about you Harry? Fancy a drink?"

Harry was decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, um, I'm kinda um…"

"Spit it out man."

"I'm sixteen." Harry looked away embarrassed. Both Cally and Steve looked shocked. Steve regained her voice first. "I thought you looked young, but sixteen? Jesus, you're not even out of school yet! Sorry we asked."

Cally gave him a once over not so subtly. "Pity you're underage. I wouldn't have guessed it." Her grin was back, "Maybe the bartender won't know either. Want to give it a go?"

"No I'd better not, someone's waiting outside for me anyway."

Cally sighed, but got up to go. "Oh well, we'll see you tomorrow." She and Steve started for the door when Harry suddenly had a thought.

"Should you two be drinking anyway? Isn't that a bit risky?"

They turned around, and Cally smiled cheekily at him. "Harry, we're heroin addicts, not alcoholics. We'll be fine."

"No worries mate. See you later," waved Steve as they left the room.

Harry supposed they knew better than he did. Tonks, dressed as the old hook-nosed woman, was once again talking to Meredith. She smiled as Harry entered, and Harry returned a small smile of his own. They left the building to walk the few blocks home. Tonks broke the silence.

"Well you seem a bit more cheery. So how was it tonight? Everyone still hate you?"

"Actually, no."

"Good. So you did manage to impress them with your Potter charm." Tonks waggled her graying eyebrows.

"I do _not_ have 'Potter charm.'"

"Of course you do. The 24/7 post-shag hair, the cute glasses, the adorable face, the-"

"Tonks! When did you get so _weird_?" Harry said shaking his head.

"Oh I've always been like this. Anyway where was I?"

"You were discussing the weather I think."

"Oh no, I was definitely talking about you," she said grinning. "If you weren't like a little brother to me, I'd probably be madly in love with you by now."

Harry started cracking up, "You are ridiculous. You could pass for Snape's grandmother right now, and you're talking about being madly in love with me!"

Tonks started snickering, "His features were a bit of an inspiration for this disguise. Hey you're trying to change the subject! Hmm… oh yes, adorable face, Quidditch prowess, Gryffindor swagger, swashbuckling bravery-"

"Swashbuckling? So now I'm a bloody pirate?"

"Perhaps…" She trailed off, and then they both erupted in laughter.

It was the first time Harry had really felt carefree since, well, just since. As they walked back towards Grimmauld Place, the cool night breeze sliding past him, Harry felt that maybe, just maybe, things would get better, and his life would turn out alright.

Author's Note: Ok, so the end is a bit more uplifting this time around, but the angst is certainly not over. And I've never been to therapy, group or otherwise, so I don't really know what a proper session would entail, or how long it would take someone to get over his denial (step 1). But I think, whether it's accurate or not, it fits with the story. Thanks for reading and cross your fingers for a quicker update. don't forget to review!


	6. Beauty In The Breakdown

Author's Note: I've added titles to the chapters. yay! Most of them are references to songs/artists/books that I think fit the mood of each chapter. I hope you like them.

Special thanks to **jadeanddiamondfire**,** kagomite**,** Letifer**,** Lanfear1**,** FroBoy**,** Silver Angel 7**,** Crazy4Harry**, and** skittles1236 **for reviewing. Hope everyone enjoys.

Diclaimer: It's all Jo's. please don't sue me.

**Chapter 6**

"Harry, Steve and I are going out to grab a bite to eat. Want to come?" Cally was smiling at him from across the room as she slung her purse around her shoulder, her eyes pleading playfully. "I know your grandmum's waiting for you and all, but couldn't you give her the slip for just one hour?"

It had been a week since Harry started coming to group sessions, and he, Cally, and Steve were fast becoming friends. After that second night, the two had latched onto Harry and accepted him as an equal. Everyone was equally screwed up in rehab; it didn't matter how old you were. Harry gladly welcomed this new-found friendship. Life was still incrediably awkward at Grimmauld Place, and he enjoyed having friends who understood this other, more darker, side of him.

"Well…I'd have to ask her. I'll go check, but I can't make any promises." Harry desperately wanted a chance to see somewhere else besides the rehab center and Grimmauld Place, but he doubted Tonks would allow it. Still, there was no harm in asking. He walked through the familiar hallway and out into the waiting area. Tonks was snoring softly in one of the chairs, her chin propped on her chest.

Harry coughed slightly to wake her. She jumped to her feet, pulling her wand from her sleeve, and pointing it at Harry's heart.

"Whoa, hey Tonks, it's just me." Harry lifted his hands in surrender.

Tonks took in the sight of him, and shoved her wand into her back pocket. "Sorry about that Harry. I guess that was a bit jumpy of me. Moody would be proud, 'constant vigilance' and all that." She clapped her hands together. "So, is it over already? Alright then, let's go, shall we?"

Harry looked down determinedly at a spot on the floor that he began to scuff up with the toe of his shoe.

"Actually, er. See the thing is, I was invited to-er, go out with a few friends tonight. And I was wondering if, if you would possibly let me go?" By the end of the question he was visibly cringing, waiting for the 'no.'

"What friends?" Surprisingly Tonks seemed thoughtful, and Harry looked up with hope.

"Just two people I know from in there. Cally and Steve. We'd just go out for some coffee or something, nothing fancy."

"Dumbledore'll have my hide, but I think you could do with a night of fun. I'll have to trail you though."

At the look of annoyance on Harry's face, she added, "Don't worry, I'll change my appearance. It wouldn't be cool to have your _grandmummy_ chaperone you." She pinched his cheek playfully, and Harry jerked his head away, smiling slightly at her grandmotherly action.

Rubbing the pinched area, Harry thanked her and went back to Steve and Cally. The rest of the room had cleared out in his absence.

"She said yes! So where are we going?"

"We thought we'd check out the café around the corner from here. Apparently, it's cheap and the food doesn't taste like dog shit," Steve said.

"Sounds perfectly appetizing, doesn't it Harry. Steve sure knows how to promote a place," quipped Cally, rolling her eyes.

It took them a little over ten minutes to arrive at the Corner Side Café and get seated. Harry had a suspicious feeling the woman who arrived a few minutes later with dyed-green hair and knee-high boots was Tonks, but she thankfully sat a polite distance away, out of ear shot. Harry just hoped she didn't have a pair of extendable ears with her.

After they had ordered a round of drinks and fish 'n chips, Steve turned to Harry. "So how do you like rehab so far?"

"Oh it's just _wonderful_." Harry's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Steve and Cally both laughed as Steve answered, "I know what you mean. Some days I think maybe we're all idiots for trying to stay straight. Why deny ourselves so much pleasure?"

"Well at least for you it was voluntary. I have no choice in the matter."

Cally joined the conversation. "For Steve it was, but I'm just like you. Either I got treatment, or my dad was going to kick me out. Being homeless didn't sound very appealing to me."

The waiter came over with their orders. They nodded their heads in thanks, but they didn't continue talking until he had retreated a fair distance away.

Harry was the first to break the silence, looking at Cally. "I didn't know you lived with your dad."

She shrugged. "He's a muggle. When I was three, my mum saw that I wasn't doing any accidental magic. Not a single exploding teacup or hovering spoon, or any of the normal shit wizarding kids are supposed to do. She stopped caring about us and one day just never came home."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. But my dad just wasn't cut out for parenting. Can't really complain though, at least I wasn't completely alone." She looked at Steve.

Harry was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Cally is unsuccessfully trying to be subtle. We've been together for seven years now, off and on." Steve smiled down at her.

That came as a bit of a shock to Harry, but he supposed it really shouldn't have. They were both around the same age and fairly attractive. Cally had wispy brown hair and a pretty face, but with grey eyes that looked as though they'd seen too much. Steve was tall and slim, with hazel eyes and a mop of blond hair that still achieved a state of tameness that Harry envied. Harry couldn't fault them for being drawn together. He saw their hands move under the table and he guessed they were reaching for each other.

"Where did you meet?" Now that he was over the surprise, he was truly curious.

"Through a friend. I needed to get away from my dad for a while and needed a place to crash. My friend offered me a couch at his flat, and Steve was living there as well." She looked at Harry calculatingly, as if she was deciding whether he was trustworthy or not. By her next sentence, he guessed he had passed the test. "Actually, it was Steve that introduced me heroin."

Harry glanced at Steve, who looked shameful. "She walked in on me while I was shooting up, and I was high enough to ask her if she wanted to try it." He looked at Cally, "I'm sorry love."

"You've apologized enough. Harry doesn't need to here your remorse. We hear too much of that kind of talk in session. It gets old after a while." The wicked grin of hers returned. "So Harry, what do you think of Richard? Is he not the biggest waste of time or what?"

"Well, I dunno. He says he can help…" Harry trailed off. Truth be told, Harry was beginning to feel that Cally was right. After the second session, Harry had thought his nightmares would stop, but they were only getting worse. Sleeping in his dead godfather's house didn't help matters either. Even though the drug was out of his system, after he woke up screaming each night, he would lie in bed for hours, thinking about and craving a hit. He was starting to lose hope in Richard's abilities.

The sound of Steve's admonishing voice cut across his thoughts. "Cally, now I know you don't always like the guy, but he saved my life, so stop bad mouthing him."

"How'd he save your life?"

Steve sighed, and Harry was afraid he had asked something that was too personal, but eventually Steve began to answer, "Unlike Cally, I didn't have a muggle relative. Both my parents were pure-blooded wizards. When they realized I was a squib, I was simply chucked out of the house. Mind you, I was only seven at the time. They put me in an orphanage." The lack of emotion in Steve's voice scarred Harry. He recalled Neville once telling him that his uncle had thrown him out a window to prove he wasn't a squib. Harry wondered what Steve and Cally's parents had tried before they had finally abandoned them. He shook himself to clear his head of that dark thought and continued listening to Steve.

"-left that dump as soon as I could, and then moved around different friends' flats. That's how I got into heroin. My friends weren't exactly upstanding citizens… but neither was I." He smiled wryly. "About a year ago, my one mate kicked me out because I couldn't pay him for the smack I used. So hours later, I was lying in the gutter, in an alley, when a man sees me, and stops to help me up. He put a cloak around me, and I asked him if he was a fucking wizard, intending to scare him off. Instead, he just smiled and told me about a rehab center he ran. That was the last day I used."

"And he's been a lot grumpier since." Cally cut in.

Steve looked sharply at her. "Cally, do you want me to still be strung out and an addict? Do you?"

"Of course not darling." Harry noticed her reassuring smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're right. Richard's a decent enough bloke. I'm sorry I said anything."

Steve seemed to accept her apology. He turned back to Harry. "Richard's method may seem slow at first, but give it time."

"How'd you manage to stay clean for so long. I wake up every night and wish for a hit. If I could, I think I'd shoot up at the first chance I got." Harry knew the two people sitting in front of him wouldn't hate him for saying it. They understood what he was going through.

Steve nodded. "It's hard mate. But for me, I was sick of my life and living the way I did. I _wanted _to change. But the one thing you have going for you is no temptations. That'll make it a hell of a lot easier. You can't shoot up if you don't have anything to shoot with."

"You're right, I suppose…" Harry trailed off and they lapsed into silence.

* * *

Tonks and Harry were walking back from the café later that night, her boots clicking on the pavement. 

"So, you have fun tonight?"

"Yeah, it's nice to talk to people who- well, who've been through it all."

Tonks nodded her head as if she understood. "So, these two, Cally and Steve, are they dating each other?" She asked the question innocently, but Harry was suspicious.

"How'd you know that? They only just told me tonight. We're you listening the whole time?" His anger, always right below the surface, began to bubble over.

Tonks quickly shook her head no. "No, I just noticed they were holding hands under the table. You can read a lot about people just by body language, Harry."

"Oh…sorry," said Harry, feeling slightly guilty for accusing her so quickly. "Why do you ask?"

Tonks shrugged. "I just think it's a little strange two addicts are dating. It doesn't seem like a healthy support system. What if one of them relapses?"

"They won't," Harry said quickly, wanting to defend his friends.

"Maybe…but it just seems as if you wouldn't want to risk getting addicted again simply because your boyfriend or girlfriend couldn't resist and tempted you to try it one more time."

"Tonks, they have been clean for a year now. I think they know how to handle themselves. Maybe you _are_ starting to turn into Moody. You're so paranoid sometimes."

Normally Tonks would have looked affronted, but instead she simply whispered under her breath, "Yeah, maybe…"

* * *

The following night's session had just ended when Richard walked over to Harry. 

"Hey, can we talk for a minute?"

"Look, I'm really sorry about being late. I promise it won't happen again." Thanks to Mrs. Black, Harry hadn't arrived until the introductions were just about over. On their way out the door, Tonks had knocked over a lamp, causing the painting to wake up screaming. Harry had forgotten that the portrait was still there, but he was quickly reminded of how loud and obscene she truly could be. It took them a full ten minutes to finally shut her up, and by the time they left the house it was already 7:30.He assumed that Richard wanted to reprimand him for it.

"See there's this painting and she woke up and was screaming bloody murder and-"

Richard quickly cut him off. "Don't worry about it. I don't yell at people for tardiness, Harry. I just wanted to see how you were."

"Oh." Harry felt like an idiot. He had been blathering on about a bloody _painting _like a child with his hands caught in the cookie jar. "I'm fine."

Richard didn't seem to accept his answer so easily. He sat down next to Harry, the chair creaking as it strained under his weight. "Uh-huh. I noticed that Steve and Cally have taken a liking to you."

"Yeah, they're great."

"That's good. But what about your friends at home? Dumbledore's told me that you seem to have distanced yourself from the entire household."

"So Dumbledore is spying on me now? Well that's just bloody brilliant." Harry was getting seriously tired of that man's meddling.

Despite Harry's raised voiced, Richard remained perfectly patient. "From what he's told me, it sounds as though he doesn't need to spy to see that you're ignoring your friends. So you want to tell me why?"

"Why what?" Harry spat.

"Why you won't talk to anyone."

"I do talk to people." Harry crossed his arms, as he tried to defend himself.

"Do you talk about your addiction with them, or do these conversations sound more like 'pass the salt, please'?"

"I talk to Tonks." Harry refused to give in.

"Isn't she the woman who escorts you here? She seems extremely lively for someone nearing eighty. It's not surprising that she got you to open up a bit. But do you two talk about drugs?"

Harry ground his teeth, but answered truthfully. "No."

"Would you care to explain why?"

"I don't know…" Harry really didn't want to get into this.

Richard wasn't giving up so easily. "Yes you do. There has to be a reason why, outside of session, you won't talk to anyone about your problems."

"They wouldn't understand."

"That's crap and you know it." Harry was surprised to here Richard curse. Normally the smiling man never raised his voice. "It's your job to make them understand. Saying that is like saying you're too scared to try."

Harry hung his head, rubbing his arm as he muttered, "I am scared."

"Of what?" Richard's voice returned to its soft, inquiring tone.

"Of them pitying me. Or of them thinking I'm pathetic." Harry's voice was barely above a whisper.

"You're not pathetic."

"Aren't I? Every night I'm afraid to go to sleep, knowing what I'll see when I close my eyes. All I want is for one peaceful night. Sometimes I think that maybe dying would be better than this. Who else but a pathetic person would think that?"

Richard's eyes filled with concern. "Remember when I said we could stop those nightmares?"  
Harry nodded, "So much for that promise."

"You need to open up to the people who love you. I can say that it wasn't your fault a million times, and you still wouldn't believe me."

"That's because it is my fault."

"You see? But you need to start talking to your friends. Don't give up on them so easily."

"I'd rather not."

"I'd rather you did. It will help you, please trust me."

Harry begrudgingly answered, "Fine, but I don't see how this will help any."

As Harry stood up to go, Richard asked him one last question. "Have you ever heard of the term 'bottling up your emotions'?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"It's time to uncork the bottle."

* * *

Harry stood outside of the sitting room breathing in deeply. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all seated inside, and the sounds of laughter filtered into the hallway. He took one last deep breath before quietly stepping through the entrance of the room. The laugher died down immediately. 

"Harry, Hi- er, how are you mate?" Ron asked nervously. He was seated on the couch next to Hermione. Ginny was reclining across from them on the loveseat, her legs curled up underneath her.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but now that he was here, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. Fortunately, Hermione came to his rescue.

"Why don't you have a seat Harry? There's room next to Ginny."

Harry obediently did as she suggested. Once he was seated, the room lapsed into silence again. Harry closed his eyes, and decided to just get it over with. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Heroin feels _really_ good." _Shit_, he wasn't expecting _that_ to come out of his mouth.

"Oh, er, ok." Ron was at a loss for words. "That's um- are you-"

"Let him finish Ron." Ginny cut him off then turned to look at Harry expectantly.

Harry hadn't meant to say it, but now that it was out, there was no turning back. "It makes you forget. And, I wanted to forget everything. The ministry, Cedric, my parents, Siri-Sirius." Harry choked on his godfather's name. "I was having dreams about them every night. Their deaths were so real."

Ron cut in. "So that's what's been waking you up at night?"

Harry nodded. "At the beginning of July I ran into someone I use to know from primary school. He offered some drugs to me and, well, I guess you know the rest." He couldn't look any of them in the eye.

Harry heard the sound of Ginny's voice next to him. "Why do you keep dreaming about death?"

"Because it's my fault."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"Ginny!" Ron looked shocked at his sister's words.

"No, it's true. It's all You-Know-Who's fault. He's the one who killed everyone, not Harry," retorted Ginny.

"But if it wasn't for me, they'd all still be alive."

Hermione spoke up from next to Ron. "Harry look at me, look."

He slowly tilted his head up until he was staring into Hermione's hazel eyes.

"Ginny's right you know. Vol-Voldemort is responsible for their deaths. You have nothing to feel guilty about."

Ron piped up. "Yeah mate. It's not your fault."

Harry let out a sigh. He had to tell them, though he really didn't want to. But if he was going to be honest, they deserved to know.

"Remember that prophecy that got smashed back in the ministry?"

All three heads nodded.

"Well, that wasn't the only copy. Dumbledore showed it to me, and it turns out I apparently have the power to defeat Voldemort. It'll be either me or him; one of us has to die. Voldemort heard part of that prophecy when I was one, and that's why he tried to kill me. It's why my parents died, why Cedric died, and why Sirius died. If it wasn't for me, everyone would still be alive."

The room was silent for a while, until finally Ginny spoke up. "It sounds to me as though if it wasn't for you, no one would stand a chance. If you didn't exist, then probably none of us would be alive, and your parents and Sirius would have died ages ago. You can hardly blame yourself for being born."

"No, but I can blame myself for telling Cedric to take the cup with me, and for leading all of you into the ministry."

Hermione cut in, "You were being fair with Cedric. How could you know that the cup was a portkey?"

"I shouldn't have let him take it, or-or I should've at least tried to save him. I just stood there and watched him die, just like I watched Sirius die." Harry's voice was raw with guilt.

When Ginny next spoke, he was surprised to hear no pity in her voice; instead it was tinged with exasperation. "Well then you'll just have to learn to live with it, Harry."

"What?"

"You think I don't feel guilty for writing in that diary, for opening the Chamber and petrifying all of those students, _including _Hermione?! But I've learned to _deal_ with it."

"Ginny, no one died because of you," Harry retorted.

"They _almost_ did." Harry was quickly realizing that Ginny was just as stubborn as he was.

"You had no control over yourself. You were _possessed_!"

"And you were manipulated! Just like I was! But there's nothing either of us can do about it." She took a deep breath as if to calm her temper. "You have to accept it and move on, otherwise you'll end up-"

"Like this?" Harry said dryly, motioning to himself.

"Yes, a strung-out addict who goes from yelling at his friends to completely ignoring them!"

Harry felt as though he'd been slapped, and a new wave of guilt washed over him at her words.

"I've been a complete arse, I know. Ginny, I'm sorry for being so harsh with you in the bathroom. This is my own mess and I took it out on you." He then looked at Ron and Hermione, who had been silent during Ginny's tirade. "And I'm so sorry for ignoring all of you. I just- I didn't know what to say to you, so it was a lot easier to just say nothing at all."

Hermione smiled at him. "Apology accepted."

"Harry, let's just forget all of this ever happened." Ron said encouragingly.

Harry wished it were that easy. "I don't think I can do that…but let's try to move past this." He managed a small smile of his own.

"I think that can be arranged. Welcome back Harry." Harry's smile faltered when Ginny's voice suddenly turned sharp. "Don't you _ever_ try anything so stupid again."

"I-" He wanted to say he wouldn't, but he wasn't sure he could keep that promise. So instead he settled on the truth. "I don't want to lie to you. Sometimes I still want to shoot up, and I'm not sure that feeling will ever go away. But… I'll try."

Ginny sighed. "Well I guess that'll have to do."

From across the room, Hermione flung herself into Harry's arms, and Harry's face was suddenly surrounded by a large mass of bushy brown hair.

"We've missed you Harry." She whispered in his ear.

Harry awkwardly tried to pat her back, while sending pleading glances over to Ron who was chuckling at his expense.

"Alright, Hermione. You better get off before you suffocate him to death."

Harry let out a relieved sigh as Hermione finally stood up and reseated herself on the opposite couch.

"Ok, so now about this prophecy. Clearly you have a chance at winning, otherwise there's no point to it at all. I say we begin research immediately. The library here is fairly large, though most of the texts contain dark arts and spells. But we might come across _something_ that's useful." Harry was glad to hear Hermione back in research mode again. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it.

* * *

That night, Harry's mind drifted into sleep, and he found himself in familiar territory: the room where Sirius died. Sirius was falling through the veil, and Harry began running towards him, screaming his name. Before he disappeared, Sirius turned to look at him. Harry skidded to a halt as his surprise at seeing a small smile on his godfather's face took over. Above the sound of the fighting in the background, he swore he heard Sirius whisper, 'it's ok.' 

His dream shifted, and suddenly he was soaring through the air, looking for the snitch. As he began his search, he kept getting distracted by the auburn hair of the other seeker. It blew freely in the wind, and the sun made it appear to be streaked with golden highlights. As she flew in circles around him, on more than one occasion he mistook her for the snitch. He doubled his concentration and began scanning the pitch, but his eyes kept wandering back to that length of ginger hair shining in the sun.

When Harry woke up the next morning he couldn't remember what he had dreamt about, but a smile crept onto his face as he realized that he had slept through the entire night. Maybe there was something to Richard's 'uncorking the bottle' theory after all.


End file.
